La Maison Grey
by petiteminette
Summary: Kate Kavanagh is after a story. La Maison Grey is a highly exclusive, mysterious gentlemen's club run by the elusive bachelor Mr. Christian Grey. When Anastasia Steele agrees to help Kate find answers, but instead ends up getting a job there, she never could have imagined the dark and decadent world she falls into. Somewhat AU, starts at the beginning of the trilogy.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Right," she slides yet another sheet of notes to the side, her fountain pen poised above the blank page. "Sexual history. As detailed as possible please."

I squirm in my seat. Do I lie? Do I run? This isn't for me. I don't have a sexual history at all, let alone a detailed one! This was a terrible idea… Wait, why does she need to know _that_? I'm-

"Ana?" A look of concern washes over her immaculate face. She's beautiful. The crinkles give away her age, but her soft skin and pillowy lips are captivating. Her eyebrows are thin and arched and perfectly plucked. She's almost intimidating.

Ms. Lincoln puts down the pen. "Ana, it's perfectly normal to have second thoughts. This isn't something that every girl can walk straight into-"

"No," I interrupt her, my voice softening in apology at the end of the word. "It's just…" I'm red as the leather cover on this chair, I can tell. "I'm a virgin." I whisper.

Her lips form a soft 'O' and I can feel tears of shame pricking in the back of my eyes. I'm so mortified. If only Kate had done more research. It's so unlike her, she really _must _be sick, so terribly unlike her not to search for every single background detail and now… I'm paying for her mistake.

* * *

"Please Ana, _pleeease_" Kate is staring at me, hands clasped and eyes wide and red-rimmed from the flu. "It'll be exciting!"

"Exciting?! Kate, I'm not a reporter. I'm _definitely _not an undercover reporter. I'm not sneaking into some seedy old strip club and pretending to be a waitress". I'm fighting with the zipper on my old brown boots. There's a hole in the side of one, but they'll have to do.

"Ana! It's not a strip club. It's a _gentlemen's _club." She emphasizes the word clearly, despite having a croaky throat. She sounds husky and sexy with this cough, maybe she should go instead… "And it's run by the enigmatic Mr. Grey. No one knows what goes on in there and now they're looking for 'servers' - whatever that means, and-"

I fiddle with the car keys of my beloved old Beetle. Kate should go instead. This fancy pants Mr. Grey is looking for waitresses at his club; there's no way he'd want to interview me! Kate would be a shoo-in, all strawberry blonde tendrils and push up bra. I love her, I really do, and I'd do most things for her. Not this though…

"Look, Ana, all I'm asking is that you go for the interview and get the deets. I've already called and they're expecting me, but you're such a total babe they'll probably prefer you anyway. Please Ana, just this once. It'll make a great story."

I already know I'll give in to her. She's my best friend and my roommate. Resigned, I nod, and Kate squeals and jumps up to hug me, scattering used tissues and papers everywhere. "Kate!" I hold her at arm's length.

"You can't wear those shoes." She looks aghast at my old boots. "Here," And she's disappeared off into her closet. The pair of pumps she returns with are terrifying - five inches high, stiletto heel, black patent leather. I'm about to protest when she's already unzipping my boots.

"There! Much better. Au revoir, Ana! Love youu!" Kate practically shoves me out the door, and I'm surprised I don't fall flat on my face. I can barely walk! I hobble out to the sidewalk and see the taxi waiting. Did Kate call this?

As if reading my mind, the window slides down and a man with a hard face and dark glasses turns to me. "Miss Kavanagh?"

"Um, Miss Steele, actually, Miss Kavanagh is unwell." There's a brief pause, and then the pop of the doors unlocking. "I see, well, you better get in."

* * *

"Ana," Ms. Lincoln resumes her note taking. "It's a rather unorthodox situation for one of our girls, yes, but perhaps Mr. Grey will like it."

Alarm bells flood my brain. Just _what_ have I got myself into?

* * *

From the moment I walk in I know that this isn't any old waitressing job. The club is magnificent, sprawling, and I've only seen the reception room and Ms. Lincoln's office. She assesses me with a cool eye at first and then sits me down in a waiting room. There are several other girls in there. Every single one is a goddess. Some tall, some petite, but all with flawless skin and cascading, glossy hair. They're in dresses and pencil skirts, clinging to their luscious curves. I'm so relieved that Kate made me wear her pumps, even though the blouse I've chosen isn't really appropriate. The little blue flowers are lost in a sea of shimmering satin and silk.

I discreetly pull a handheld mirror out of my bag. I wouldn't normally carry this, but Kate had insisted. There are bags under my bright blue eyes, which look even bigger than normal against my pale skin. I ruffle my hair a little, trying to fluff it out, then decide to braid it quickly instead. I'll have to do.

I have the distinct feeling I'm being watched. Not just by the other girls, but someone else… One by one the girls are called. They all pass through one of two doors. What does that mean, I wonder? I'm left waiting right until the end, when it's just me and my battered copy of Tess.

"Anastasia Steele?" I recognize the woman immediately as the one who had greeted me at reception. She stands out amongst all the furniture, which is dark polished wood and oxblood leather. So decadent! Ms. Lincoln has a halo of bright, silvery blonde hair that makes her shine like an angel. She gives me a small smile. "We're ready for you now."

* * *

"I'll have to review your file with Mr. Grey, Ana, but I think you're an excellent candidate for the job. Do you have any questions?"

My mind is reeling. Ms. Lincoln has asked me a variety of questions, some _far _more personal than I'd like. She's also weighed and measured me, run her fingers through my loose hair and assessed my mousy outfit. She gave an approving nod to the pumps.

I can't tell whether to trust this woman or not. She seems to want to help me, like a mentor… She seems to care. I'm a little threatened by her beauty though. She might be perfect.

"Wh-what," I stutter. _Damn!_ I'm so embarrassed, and she can tell. There's a small smirk across her lips. "What exactly will I have to do for Mr. Grey?"

Ms. Lincoln walks over to the filing cabinet and pulls out a thick, sealed envelope. "You're here to wait on Mr. Grey and his guests. Look after them, show them a good time." She purrs. "The details are all in here Ana. I look forward to hearing your decision."

_Wow_, this thing is heavy. I turn the envelope over and notice the wax seal. It's the same oxblood red as all the leather furniture. It's Mr. Grey's personal seal.

I somehow make it out the door before slumping down on the street. There's no taxi service home. I'd sipped champagne on the way here! I listened to a beautiful choral soundtrack and stretched my sore toes out in the fluffy black carpets of the car. The envelope is burning a hole in my hands, but I know that I shouldn't open it here. No, I would need a whole bottle of the cheap red wine Kate and I favoured to read this…

As I'm walking home I have a wicked idea. What if I don't tell Kate? What if I just say that I didn't get the job? There's no evidence anyway - Ms. Lincoln had strictly forbidden the use of any recording devices. If I tell Kate, she'll never let me take this job, and I have the feeling that I wouldn't be able to turn it down once I read the 'details'. A small voice in my head chastises me, _Anastasia Steele, when did you get so greedy?_

The truth is, I just need the money. One look at Mr. Grey's club and I knew he would pay his staff a fortune. I've never been that interested in having a lot of money, but I graduated three months ago now, and while Kate would never admit it, she really needs some rent off me soon. Her job as junior reporter at the local paper doesn't pay enough to sustain her lifestyle. _A lifestyle that soon will be yours, Anastasia_. I ignore the niggling voice and carry on home.

* * *

I'd fought her off, with my actual _hands_, because I wanted to protect my bag where the papers had been stuffed, and faking some story about how I'd bombed the interview, rushed into my room and locked the door.

My hands are shaking as I prize open the envelope. There is a heavy, leather bound booklet of sorts in there. I gasp. There's a silver inscription on the front cover.

_Anastasia Steele_

_Handbook_

_La Maison Grey_

It's already personalized! Another thick, stapled document falls from the envelope and flutters into my lap. It's a contract.

I open the first page.

* * *

"So take me through this again, you're a nighttime secretary?" Kate doesn't believe a word of it.

"Yes." I pull my trench coat tighter across my body.

"What do you do? At night?" She furrows her thick, straight eyebrows.

"Admin. Photocopying, filing, a little bit of proof-reading. Anything they need really." I'm wearing Kate's pumps again. She handed them over to me a week ago, claiming they were suddenly too tight for her.

"But why at night?" I swallow. I've never been a good liar. I'm losing her… "Oh, well, who knows. I'm glad you found something Ana." I let out a silent breath. She means it, not because of the money, but because she genuinely wants to see me happy and successful. I hate lying to her. It's unlike her to give up this easily when she smells a rat though…

"Don't wait up!" I smile and give her a quick hug. I try to stride purposefully out the door, but I'm not used to high heels yet. It's proving a challenge.

Outside, my taxi is waiting.


	2. Chapter One

**NB: Some inspiration for this chapter, including the lipstick idea (!) comes from the beautiful 2011 film 'Sleeping Beauty'. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

I feel really stupid. I glance over what I've already written.

_Ms. Lincoln is tall, curvaceous, and very, very blonde. She's wearing a gunmetal grey pencil skirt with crisp white blouse and towering grey pumps. The red soles click against the glistening wood floor._

_She's kind, and accommodating, but I can sense that she's seen the same candidate a million times._

There's gaps in my narrative… nothing can get past Kate. I'm going to have to try harder to fill in all the parts of the interview I _won't _be telling her.

* * *

"Ana, we pay our staff well." She's matter of fact, and looks vaguely irritated that I would ask about the salary. I sigh. I hope Kate is happy with the information I've found… this is the most secretive job interview I've ever been on, without a doubt.

"We're looking for intelligent, well-educated young women. Grace. Sophistication." She waves her arm as if I understand what she means. "You're a beautiful girl, Ana".

Ms. Lincoln's smile curves in a way I'm not entirely comfortable with. It's predatory, almost.

I blush, furiously and busy myself with a thread on the end of my skirt. "Mr. Grey will like that." She murmurs. There's a hint of something else in her words... is it sadness?

I pluck up some courage. "You know, Ms. Lincoln, it was my friend, Miss. Kavanagh who applied for this job. She suggested I take the interview instead of her."

Ms. Lincoln smirks. "Well, Ana, you can thank your _friend_, for the kind opportunity. I have her picture here anyway," She rifles through my file. "She wouldn't have made the cut."

_Kate - not pretty enough! Impossible. _My mind drifts back to the waiting room. There were plenty of girls that looked like Kate, and lots that looked like me, too. There were two doors…

"That's enough questions, Anastasia. I need to hear about you." I'm a little surprised by how forceful her voice is. Maybe I should be afraid of this woman. "Right, sexual history."

* * *

"This is it?"

Kate's sitting at the end of my bed wearing her dreaded fluffy rabbit pajamas. She has a handful of my notes from the interview. "You didn't even meet him?!"

I shake my head. "His secretary conducts the interviews." I pause. "What's he like?"

Kate is preoccupied with the notes. "Beats me. No one knows anything about him. He's very wealthy."

Something inside me prickles at those words. _Oh_, how I need this job_. _Kate begins to read aloud.

_It's clear that Mr. Grey has a certain type of employee in mind. I don't fit that mould._

I start to nibble on my lower lip as she reads. _That's not true_, my conscience sneers at me.

"I'm sorry for making you go through with this, Ana. It sounds totally humiliating. The handsome Mr. Grey is a chauvinist pig."

I feel some relief and some hurt - that Kate bought my lie and that she would so easily believe that I wasn't good enough. I've never been good enough. All through high school I'd never had a date. I always had my head buried in a book and I was a late, _ahem_, bloomer… by the time guys started to take notice of me, I'd given up on them all. Stories are so much better than reality.

"Sorry I couldn't get more out of it. Can I finish my job applications now?"

Kate smiles at me. I can tell she's starting to feel better - she's itching to start typing up the story. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything". She shuffles out the door in her footie pajamas.

Once she's gone, I slip the envelope out from my pillowcase. I feel the soft leather, smell it, run my fingers in the grooves where my name is inscribed. _How did they know? _I shake my head. I can ignore this for a day longer. Right?

I'm about to start drafting a new covering letter when the phone rings. It's Ray! My heart leaps. I could really do with hearing my Dad's voice right now.

"Hi sweetie. How's it going." We exchange a short conversation. I gently coax things out of him - how his day is going, if he's eating well, all that stuff. Just as we're about to say goodbye he speaks up. "Ana, you know I love you, right? Well, I thought you could use a little support-"

I want to cut him off immediately. Ray is _not _giving me money. Besides… "Wait, Ana, hear me out. I just thought I'd send a little something your way. Get yourself a new book. It's a gift."

My heart swells. I'm so happy to call this man my father. "Thanks, Dad. I love you."

"Love you sweetie, take care of yourself."

* * *

I close my eyes. It's been a long day. A long, weird day. I desperately try to shut my brain off, but I know I can't. My hand inches under the pillow. The feel of the leather is comforting, somewhat.

I switch on my bedside light. The book is heavy in my hands, but it's smooth and supple and-

_Dear Miss. Steele,_

There's a handwritten note on the first page. Is it from Ms. Lincoln? Is it from _him_? My heart rate quickens and I blush. Why does that excite me?

_Welcome to La Maison Grey. You are about to become a part of one of the most esteemed gentlemen's clubs in the United States._

_Your job is to serve the clientele. We are powerful, wealthy men, and we deserve to be waited on by Seattle's most beautiful women._

_I entrust that Elena has made a good decision, and I look forward to meeting you in person._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mr. Christian T. Grey_

Elena?! It's so weird to give a first name to the snow queen. Instinctively, I'm nibbling my lip again. He has such beautiful handwriting, so old-fashioned and elegant. Wait - _in person_? What does that mean? We've never even spoken before. I think back to the uneasy feeling I had in the waiting room - like I was being watched.

The thrill I feel is the thrill of being wanted. Of being selected for something exclusive and special. Secretly, it's also knowing that Kate, for once, isn't good enough. I feel terrible thinking that way, but I can't help it.

The following pages of the 'handbook' detail everything - from etiquette to dress. The list of approved retailers for clothing, well, I've never heard of three quarters of them, and the others I know I can't afford to shop at. I learn that I'm not to speak to the men unless spoken to, just serve them their drinks and dinner and wait to be bossed around. This is… _archaic_. I'm not sure this is something I wholeheartedly agree with.

The following page is a list of approved beauty salons and spas, as well as gyms. I grimace. _That's not going to happen_. A fact file with my height, weight and measurements suggests that I'm expected to look after myself. I've always been slim, so I don't think that will be a problem.

Tucked neatly at the back of the handbook is the contract, and I unfold it, my hands shaking a little.

_Proposed Salary: $120,000.00 per annum_

I giggle. I must have misread that. I take a breath and refer back to the contract.

_$120,000.00 per annum. Salary is subject to supplementation from the gentlemen, as they see fit. A clothing budget is provided and transport is subsidized. There is room for promotion._

I almost stop breathing. Only in my wildest dreams did I think I'd make that kind of salary, and I certainly didn't think I'd make it serving crusty old men the occasional cocktail. Clothing budget? That explains the list of approved retailers.

_Contracted period: Minimum, three months. After the trial period has elapsed, the employee is free to terminate her contract without notice. La Maison Grey reserves the right to terminate their contract with the employee at any time._

Can I really do this? Am I cut out for this illustrious world? I'm a graduate, for God's sake, what am I doing, even _thinking _of objectifying myself like this? Then I remember Mr. Grey's letter. There's something intoxicating about his words. Something about that letter makes me want _more_. _There is room for promotion. _

I cradle the phone in my hands, ghosting my fingers over the numbers. Without thinking anymore, I dial the number on the letter. I need to speak to Ms. Lincoln - Elena - someone!

"Grey."

I shudder. The voice is clipped and ice cold. Did I dial the wrong number?

"Hello? Who is this?"

The lump in my throat is the size of a golf ball and all of a sudden I'm unbearably thirsty. I can barely open my mouth to speak. "This is Ana Steele. I interviewed… have I got-" I'm half expecting him to hang up. There's an uncomfortable silence.

"Anastasia Steele." My voice sounds liquid as it pours from his lips. "I've been expecting your call."

* * *

"Sir?" The driver has his eyes focused on the road. He's wearing the same dark glasses and an earpiece.

"Yes, Miss Steele?" He rolls down the partition and looks at me briefly in the rearview mirror.

The glass of champagne is starting to warm up, and a drop of condensation falls onto my shimmery, oyster-colored dress. "Do I always get champagne on the way to work?"

I'm not sure, but I think I see the hint of a smile on his face. "Mr. Grey made it clear to me that you should feel comfortable."

I curl my toes in the fluffy black rug once more. I'm _certainly _comfortable. The seats are warm and every now and then they begin to massage my lower back. There's an ice bucket with champagne - it's pink, and delicious - and a tray of strawberries, covered in white chocolate. I feel like a celebrity.

I straighten my dress as the driver rolls up the partition again. Friday had been a _very _embarrassing day.

* * *

I'm waiting for my tea. The al fresco café where I'd agreed to meet Caroline Acton is beautiful. It's part of an outdoor shopping mall, and there are lush trees and plants surrounding each table. A gentle spray of mist cools me down in the heat.

"Anastasia, dear!" Ms. Acton throws her hands in the air as she approaches. My eyes widen and I back away, instinctively. "I'm so pleased to meet you."

Caroline Acton is the opposite of the rest of Mr. Grey's staff. Instead of being cold, reserved and immaculate, she's wild. Her large breasts dominate her slim figure and she has a mop of flaming red curls. She's wearing an expensive-looking - obviously - charcoal suit. This vision bustles towards me with a glittering grin.

"I've always dressed Christian's girls. You're all so _gorgeous _- like little dolls!" She stirs her latte with a flourish, spattering foam all over the glass table.

_Christian's girls_. I bounce the words around. I'm not anybody's girl. "How many girls are there?" I ask.

"Fifteen, right now. Your figure though - to _die _for!" She runs a hand over my thigh and I jump. "Don't be so shy, dear. You're not at work." Ms. Acton finishes her latte in two gulps and takes my hand. "Right, let's go shopping!"

* * *

"You're all set."

I'm exhausted. Ms. Acton practically has tears in her eyes - the emotion of seeing so many dresses at once is too much for her. I have spent the last three hours trying on countless outfits, all of them luxuriously made and horrendously overpriced. Short shift dresses, clingy wrap dresses, floaty evening gowns and _hundreds _of pairs of shoes. My feet are burning.

I wonder if Christian Grey has a fear of jeans. Ms. Acton physically recoiled when I suggested a pantsuit. No one pays for anything, at least I don't see it. Ms. Acton hands me six shopping bags, and then one much larger, black box. I don't remember seeing what was in that one.

* * *

_No! _

I shut the lid of the black box immediately. This is a mistake… What could I possibly be needing this for?!

I peek into the side. I can see Chantilly lace, pearls, Swarovski crystals and velvet ribbons. Taking a deep breath, I pull something out. It's a pair of panties. Nothing like any pair of panties I've ever owned - they're miniscule, soft mesh at the front with a patch of fabric barely big enough to cover… _you know what_. The back is just as revealing, with delicate scalloped lace laid over a g-string. They'll only cover half of my bottom, at most.

I feel like a naughty child, snooping where I shouldn't be. Why would Ms. Acton give me all this lingerie? It's not like anyone will be seeing it. There's fine silk stockings with proper fully-fashioned seams and welts, and a garter belt to match the non-existent panties.

_Ana, you need the money. It's no different to working in any other bar. Now put on a dress and a smile, and pull yourself together._

* * *

La Maison Grey isn't far out of the city, but it looks like an old country house. The car pulls up to a sweeping gravel driveway, lit with lanterns all the way up to the house. The huge oak door, like most of the front of the house, is obscured by ivy.

"Go on, Miss. Steele. Elena will buzz you in." I climb out, a little unsteady on my feet in Kate's pumps. I walk round to the driver's seat. "Thank you, Sir."

He gives me a smile, something between warmth and pity. "You're no longer a guest, Miss. Steele. You can call me Taylor." Before I've had a chance to reply he drives off, leaving me stranded by the entrance.

I take a deep breath. Somehow, I think that this moment might change everything.

* * *

Another woman takes my coat as I enter the lobby. The floors have been recently polished - I can tell by the citrus smell lingering in the air. She's much older than Elena, and far less striking. "Mrs. Jones." She smiles at me, disappearing with the expensive Burberry trench picked out by Ms. Acton.

"Ana." I turn to face Elena. She looks different tonight. Her blonde bob is waved and gleaming against her heavily made up cheeks. She's wearing a necklace that sits high against her throat - hundreds of diamonds and emeralds - and the first _three _buttons of her silk blouse are undone, revealing an impressive cleavage.

"You look beautiful." Her mouth curls again, almost a smile. I can't tell if it's genuine or not. "Ms. Acton's done well." She regards my dress. It hangs softly above the knee, not too tight, but it clings in all the right places.

I nod and flush, embarrassed. "Come with me." She beckons me forward into another room. At first I think it's her office, but it's a powder room. The furnishings are completely different to the rest of the house. Instead of sombre wood and candles, the room looks like a Parisian boudoir. The whole thing is baby blue and soft grey, with a chaise longue, several gilded couches and a row of white marble dressing tables. There's a bath-tub by the French windows, deep and claw-footed with copper taps. On the back of each chair is a fluffy white robe.

"This is where you will dress for dinner." I frown, looking at my feet. I _am _dressed for dinner. Elena tips my chin up to meet her gaze. "These men aren't easily impressed, Ana." I gulp. I can sense that I'm chewing my lip. "Come, remove your dress."

I'm frozen. She's staring at me, waiting. She must have something else for me, yes. Okay, I can do this. _Oh, no you can't_. I ignore the voice in my head and slip the dress down off my shoulders.

Elena blinks. I'm standing in the middle of a fur rug in nothing but Ms. Acton's lace and mesh panties, stockings, garter belt, and a matching bra. There's black lace holding the garment over my breasts, but the mesh inserts reveal my nipples. I go to remove my pumps, and Elena shakes her head.

After a moment she coughs, suddenly. "Right. I'm pleased that you've paid attention to the handbook." I'm relieved. Who would have known I'd ever seek this woman's approval of my lingerie? _Not the Ana Steele I know_.

Elena points to the dressing table on the end. "This is yours." She pulls open a drawer and retrieves a small black compact. "Go in the bathroom, look at yourself, and find a lipstick shade that matches your labia."

I almost choke. I can feel a laugh rising in my throat, and I'm about to burst into laughter when Elena thrusts the compact into my open hand. "This is about looking as naturally alluring as possible. Loose hair, no makeup, just one perfectly-matched lipstick shade."

* * *

I stare at myself in the mirror. This is, without a doubt, the most mortifying moment of my life so far. I curse the day I ever met Kate Kavanagh, and even more, I curse the day Christian Grey answered my phone call.

* * *

When I return, I notice that my dress is gone from where I'd left it on the rug. Elena is waiting with crossed legs, tapping her red sole against the table leg. "Very good. Sit for a moment, Anastasia." I can tell that when my full name is used around here it means that I'm in trouble. It means something serious. "I'll need you to sign an NDA."

I frown. "An NDA?"

Elena pulls out her fountain pen and slides a piece of paper across the glass table. "We need your full compliance. We need your silence. What happens here is strictly between you, the staff, and Mr. Grey and his guests. No details about what happens here tonight must leave this building, do you understand?"

I'm terrified. Not for one moment did I think this through. I'm miles away from the city and no one knows I'm here; now I'm powerless. I can't tell Kate, or anyone… What if something happens to me? Do I trust these people? _I trust Mr. Grey_. My conscience tries to berate me, remind me of the words we'd exchanged over the phone two nights ago.

"_You're such a unique beauty, Anastasia. It's wonderful of you to share that pleasure with me. With us."_

The words send a shiver down my spine. The word _pleasure _does something even more… unknown. It curls and squirms in my belly, setting off the butterflies again. I decide to sign.

Elena stands. There's a delicate, silk black robe over her arm. She hands it to me.

I slip the robe on, grateful to cover some of my flesh. "I'm not getting my dress back, am I?"

Elena sighs. "Our girls don't usually ask this many questions." I keep my eyes down. This seems to irritate her more. "You can meet them in the kitchen. I suggest that you don't keep Mr. Grey waiting."

_Jeez_. I'm barely dressed and about to walk into a room of fifteen other girls, presumably just as naked as I am. If I stop to think about it for longer than a second I'll have a heart attack.

"Elena, I have something to ask. Why did you leave me Mr. Grey's phone number? I thought all admin stuff went through you."

Thunder flashes across her face. I can see heat rising in her cheeks, threatening to disturb the thick layer of perfectly-applied makeup. "Let me make something clear. That was a mistake. The person responsible for giving you Mr. Grey's number no longer works for us, and if I hear that you have contacted him again outside of working hours then you will be out too. You are replaceable, Miss Steele."

I'm stunned. The mentor, the snow queen, she's erupted in a second, and I don't know why… My lip trembles and I nod, fervently.

She stills at the doors to the kitchen. "And Anastasia, it's Ms. Lincoln to you."

* * *

The kitchen is as magnificent as the rest of the house. There's a large, black marble island in the centre, and all the girls are standing around, pouring glasses of champagne and talking quietly. They all turn to stare as I walk in.

Immediately, I am struck by something. We all look the same. Every girl is slim, with full, but modest breasts. They're adorned in exquisite lingerie. They all have long, glossy brown hair, reaching to the middle of their backs. It's like standing in a hall of mirrors, and I'm dizzy. I think I'm going to be sick.

I steady myself against the counter and one girl rushes to my side. "Come, sit down." She leads me over to the table and pours me a glass of champagne. I've already had two in the car, and my head is feeling a little fuzzy. Maybe _that's_ why I've been so calm up to now.

"I'm Leila." She strokes my shoulder gently. I look up at her. She's stunning - one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. Thick brown bangs graze over her honey brown eyes. I blush as I notice her lipstick. She's wearing a satin corset that makes her waist look tiny. Her legs are long and waxed to perfection. "The first night is hard."

I want to push her away. This terrifying, freak of a girl who's totally okay with this all. We're an army of clones! I find myself clinging to her, unable to move. "Will I have to have sex with someone tonight?" I whisper, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks.

Leila gasps. "No!" She pulls out a silk handkerchief - from where I don't know - and dabs at my flushed face. "We're just going to serve some drinks and keep the guys company. Most of them just want to talk."

I start to calm down. I become aware that the other girls are staring at me. Some have horrible smirks on their faces. I feel ashamed, but then again, I've felt like that all week. Ashamed that I would consider something as crazy as this.

"What's your name?" Leila smoothes my hair.

I smile, gratefully. "Ana. Anastasia, but please call me Ana."

"Alright Ana. I'll look after you, don't worry. But we better move - Mr. Grey's just arrived."

* * *

I hold my breath the whole walk down to the drawing room. I'm grateful that I won't be required to speak.

Leila opens the doors and with a smile, begins to move towards her target.

I follow her, a tray of champagne flutes in my hands, and then our eyes meet.

* * *

I stick to Leila's side the whole night. My robe remains tied, even though the sheer lace doesn't do much to cover me up.

I haven't said a word. No one wants to speak to the new girl. The other girls are so beautiful, comfortable in their skin and willing to please. One girl - Susanna, I think someone called her - is stretched out in a man's lap. He's not old, and definitely not crusty. In fact, he can't be older than thirty. His hand travels up her thigh and she giggles.

I'm standing in the corner, still holding my tray. I'm transfixed. Leila is kneeled at Mr. Grey's feet. He's twirling her hair in his hands, gently, and then he tugs, pulling her up to his lap. Leila's mouth hangs open; she looks desperate, needy. Mr. Grey's free hand travels down her back slowly, over the corset, over her bottom… he stops where her thigh starts and whispers something in her ear, then raises his hand and-

My tray crashes to the ground.

There's broken glass and champagne soaking into Mr. Grey's rug. The whole room has turned to look at me and I want the ground to swallow me up.

I can't help it. My eyes go straight to meet Mr. Grey's. They are molten, incensed. There's something else though, something in those eyes that's almost… _playful_. My breath quivers. It's the only noise in the room.

"Gentlemen," Christian raises his hand in my direction. "Have you met Miss. Anastasia Steele?"


	3. Chapter Two

**NB: A huge thank you to everyone that has followed, favourited and reviewed in the last day. Yes, even you nasty 'Guest' reviewer! I'm just so terribly sorry someone forced you to read my story... I appreciate all the feedback and love. For those of you who wanted some backstory, here's a little bit... All other questions I've been asked will be answered in chapters to come. Please be patient, it will be _so_ worth it! I uploaded this chapter again because no matter what I didn't it wouldn't show as updated recently!**

**I also felt like Ana needed a bit more oomph! Hopefully she's a bit feistier in this chapter.**

* * *

I'm frozen to the spot. The girls all avert their eyes, conscious not to be associated with me in any way. I look to Leila, pleading for some help, but she's not interested.

Suddenly, the door bursts open.

"What was that noise?" It's Elena - Ms. Lincoln. She looks at me and the mess, aghast. "You…" She's glaring at me, her blue eyes hard. "Come with me. Now."

I go to leave, the glass crunching beneath my heels, when Mr. Grey's soft voice interrupts the deadly silence. "Oh come on now, Elena. I don't think that's necessary." She looks like she's about to explode. "Let Anastasia have a moment to calm down. You can fetch Mrs. Jones to clear up the mess." She wants to fight him, I can tell, but his tone is so… demanding.

There's a moment of silence before Ms. Lincoln lets out a defeated squeak - not a noise I'd expect to come from her - and storms out the room. I catch a glimpse of Leila. There's a fearful look in her eyes, although I don't know what she's worried about. I'm the one who's going to have my head on a stick!

"Go on, Anastasia. You're excused for the night. I'll have Taylor bring the car round when you're ready." He gazes deep into my eyes. His tone is gentle, but firm.

A few seconds after I've closed the door behind me, I can hear the conversation start to flow again, slowly and then all at once. I'm so grateful to be excused. I hurry up the stairs to the powder room I'd changed in earlier.

* * *

I'm relieved to find it empty. If I never see Ms. Lincoln again, I would be happy. In fact, if I never see this stupid house again, I would be even happier. I feel like the biggest idiot on Earth right now.

_There's one thing you'd miss_. I have to shake the thought out of my head. I pull on one of the white fluffy robes, discarding the flimsy lace thing I've been wearing all night. I wander towards the French windows. As I pass by the row of dressing tables, my heart sinks a little. Some of them have pictures pasted around the mirrors - family members and boyfriends and even children? _God_, I hope that's not the case. One place has a huge bunch of white roses standing, waiting for their recipient. I can't help but sneak a glimpse at the card.

_Jessica,_

_You are as captivating as ever._

_Yours, _

_Jason._

Which one is Jessica? I try to recall their names. I think she's the tallest one. She's wearing a bustier with blush pink bows down the back and has a small tattoo of a star behind her ear. I feel like I've got to find the things that make them unique or they'll disappear into nothingness. She, like all the other girls, exudes confidence and sophistication. I wonder which of the men has sent her flowers.

Leila's dressing table is overflowing with things - perfume bottles, jewelry boxes, cards and pictures and hair accessories. A part of me thinks that Leila's relationship with Mr. Grey goes beyond mixing his drinks. _Are all the girls moonlighting?_

The way they all act around the men makes me uneasy, but then again, I remember that our salary is supplemented by tips. Ms. Lincoln specified, clearly, that no member of the club is to touch a girl without their permission. She also made it clear that I wouldn't have to do anything I didn't want to. I knew what was expected of me. _There is room for promotion. _

I think about running a bath. The girls won't be returning for at least another hour, and I have no idea where my dress and coat are, even if I wanted to leave. I slip the uncomfortable panties off and shove them in the pocket of my robe.

* * *

The smell of jasmine is heavenly, filling the air as I wait for the bath to fill. This is just what I need - to be alone for a moment. I need to collect my thoughts and decide whether I can handle it. I'm about to climb in when I hear a knock on the door. I still, not wanting to answer in case it's Ms. Lincoln.

The knock comes again, more forceful this time.

"Anastasia?" _Shit_, it's him. "Anastasia? May I come in?" I look around the room, wondering where I can hide.

The door swings open. The bath is running over and I'm standing in a robe and no panties, face to face with Mr. Christian Grey.

I've not had a chance to look at him, not properly. He's breathtakingly gorgeous. Chiseled jaw with a hint of stubble - just a hint. I desperately want to run my hand through his coppery curls that flop over his forehead. His eyes are molten grey. He's definitely _not _a crusty old man… not what I expected for the owner of a gentlemen's club. Kate did mention that he was filthy rich…

"I did knock." He offers with a grin, seeing the alarmed look on my face.

I fumble for the tap and shut it off. "I- I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. I needed a moment. I'll be ready to leave soon. I don't think you're supposed to be in here." I can't face him right now. What is it about him that makes me so nervous? It can't just be because he's so handsome.

I think I hear him chuckle. "Anastasia, may we speak for a moment? Besides, this is my club. I go where I please."

"I'm sorry that your first night didn't go well… and I'm sorry that Ms. Lincoln may not have made you feel completely welcome. I personally select all of the girls and I want to know that you're okay with… all this."

I turn towards him. He's sitting on the edge of the chaise longue, buttons of his dark blue suit undone and revealing a sculpted figure, even beneath his shirt.

_Personally select? _My mouth goes dry. "Please, call me Ana." I croak. He seems amused.

"Of course, _Ana_." He curls his tongue around my name, probing, coaxing a reaction from me. I can't help it, I blush. The situation is too unreal and his words stir something deep inside me.

"They're not prostitutes, Ana." _What?! _It's like he can read my mind. I turn my eyes down. I'm relieved, of course. "You're just here to serve us. Sex for money - it's not my style."

The whole thing is bizarre. His actions with Leila say otherwise… "My personal and professional relationship with Leila goes beyond the club. I have known her for a long time." _How does he do that?_

I like the way he looks at me, like I'm seeing everything for the first time. I _am _seeing everything for the first time. This is new, and terrifying, and- "I can take you far, Anastasia." What could he possibly mean? I don't need to go any further than I've gone tonight, _no thank you_, Mr. Grey.

"You're a beautiful girl. I knew you were perfect for this job the minute you stepped into the office."

For the first time, I have to speak up. "Excuse me? You didn't meet me until tonight." He raises his eyebrows, surprised at my sudden courage. _I'm _surprised at my sudden courage. I can feel a lot of fear and confusion and embarrassment bubbling up inside me.

"Oh, Ana." He taunts. What is with him? I thought he wanted to see if I was 'okay' anyway? "Would you like to leave?"

I want to be back at home, with Kate and her footie pajamas and panties that do their job and actually _cover_ my modesty. I want a very large glass of very cheap and disgusting red wine. I want to read an old novel. I know that his question goes beyond this moment, but I can't bear to leave the room, and I don't know why.

"No." I breathe.

He smiles and moves towards me. "Good. I want you to stay, Ana." I start to tremble as he slips something inside my pocket. "My business card. Elena had my cell number changed after… Just call me. We can have coffee; discuss the particulars. I don't want to lose you, Anastasia."

I hear voices coming from down the corridor. They sound like they're arguing, and before I can step away Leila and Susanna burst in. Leila looks horrified by the scene, but instead of saying a word, she walks to her dresser and sits, busying herself with a makeup brush. Christian leaves the room, nodding quietly to Susanna. She gives him a sad, wistful look. He places a small black box on Leila's dressing table.

She opens the box - it's a pair of large, teardrop diamond earrings. They're as flawless as her beautiful skin.

"Leila?" She stares at me with her big, brown eyes. "Do you know where my clothes would be?" There's a minute where the look on her face shifts - from surprise to anger to deep sadness.

"In the closet. They should be marked with your name."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Leila." She doesn't respond.

* * *

"_Anastasia Steele, I've been expecting your call."_

"_Mr. Grey. I'm so sorry to bother you, I was under the impression that this was Ms. Lincoln's number."_

"_Is that so, Miss. Steele? Well, you've got me instead, I'm afraid. Do you have any questions?"_

"_Yes. I… I'd like to take the job."_

"_Delightful, Miss. Steele. We look forward to receiving you. You're such a unique beauty, Anastasia. It's wonderful of you to share that pleasure with me. With us."_

"_Um… What should I wear?"_

"_Call Ms. Acton. Her number should be in the handbook, somewhere. She takes care of the clothing budget for our employees."_

"_I don't have any experience, Mr. Grey. Waitressing experience!"_

"_That's just fine, Miss. Steele. I'm sure you'll fit right in."_

"_Thank you, Mr. Grey. Thank you for the opportunity… I really need the money."_

"_Money is no object, Miss. Steele. See you Friday, at 8pm sharp. Oh, and Miss. Steele?"_

"_Yes Mr. Grey?"_

"_Welcome to the club."_

* * *

Kate had already left for work by the time I woke up. I had barely slept, tossing and turning and dreaming of grey eyes. I dreamt of his voice, firm and challenging and kind, and I dreamt that it was me kneeling at his feet…

I start fixing myself some pancakes, enjoying the normality of cooking in our tiny kitchen. I turn up the volume on the radio. Katy Perry's latest hit takes my mind off things.

I've just flipped a perfect pancake when the buzzer goes off.

_Package for Miss. Steele?_

"Um, yeah okay, send it up." I turn off the range and answer the door. I haven't ordered anything… "Taylor!"

I'm surprised to see Mr. Grey's driver holding a small brown package for me.

"From Mr. Grey." I raise an eyebrow. _Who else?_

"Thank you Taylor." I'm curious, of course. I rip off the paper to reveal a small black box. _Oh no_.

It's a bracelet. A simple, diamond tennis bracelet. I set the box down and it glints in the morning sunlight. It's flawless. Taylor's already left before I can thrust it back into his hands. I really don't want this… All I can see is Leila's face when she opened the earrings. It was defeat. There's a card with the box.

_Dear Ana,_

_Thank you for agreeing to stay. I'm sorry that the evening was not what you expected, but perhaps you are not as suited for the role as I hoped. Please call me and we can discuss the particulars._

_Yours,_

_Christian_

Christian! First name terms… I have a lot of 'particulars' to discuss with him. Particulars relating to his strange relationship with Leila and this even stranger club. I could just walk away. I could have walked away last night, last week… I have to meet with him though - I have to return the bracelet, _right?_

He picks up after the first ring.

"Grey."

"Christian, it's Ana." I turn the bracelet in my hands, examining the fine white gold clasp.

"Ana. I'm glad that you called…" He's hesitant. "Did you get the gift I sent?"

"Yes Christian. I can't accept it. It's highly unprofessional. I'm an employee." I shut the box and push it away from me. Leila Leila Leila. "I'd like to meet so that I can return it to you. I'd also like to discuss some particulars. I have questions."

He laughs, but it sounds a little wounded. "Usually our girls don't ask so many questions." _Huh? _That's what Elena said… "But of course. I really value you as an employee Ana, I'd hate to lose you." Why does he care? He said it himself - I'm not suited to the role.

"Of course I'll meet you. Java Bean? I can do 10 or 11:15."

Wait - how does he know my favorite coffee shop? _It's just a coincidence Ana_. "Umm… 10?" I chew on the corner of my nail. He sounds different this morning. Not so brooding, or cold.

"Perfect. I'll see you then. Goodbye Ana."

* * *

Christian Grey is relaxed in a worn leather couch. His legs are crossed, and he's tapping away on an iPhone. He looks even better than he did yesterday. He's wearing a cosy knit sweater and jeans. The rugged look is a _very _goodlook for him. "Mr. Grey."

He looks up at me and smiles wide. "Ana. I'm so glad you came. Can I get you anything?"

"Tea. With the bag out. Twinings if they have it." He looks at me quizzically, but nods.

"Anything to eat?" I don't really have much of an appetite. I shake my head. When he returns, he's bought two blueberry muffins. "Feel free to have one." It sounds like an order, not an offer.

He watches me as I dunk the teabag into my cup, just once. I ignore his thoughts, I'm not in the mood. "So, Mr. Grey, do you always take your employees out to lunch?" I can tell he's surprised by my tone.

He picks apart the muffin. "No, Ana, not usually."

"Do you take Leila to lunch?" I take a huge sip of my tea. He's annoyed.

"I don't wish to discuss my relationship with Leila, but I see why you asked." Christian nudges the plate with the extra muffin closer to me. "Eat, _please_."

I'm not backing down. "Do you pay her? Does she earn more than me? Is she a prostitute?"

"No, Ana. _Jeez, lower your voice_. She used to do exactly what you do, for years." I gulp. I don't want to know what changed, but still… "We have an _arrangement_. An agreement, of sorts. Mostly now she's just there to advise the other girls."

"Is she your girlfriend?" I ask.

"No." Christian blanches. A blank look washes over him. There's a tinge of unease in his voice. I feel so sorry for him I take a delicate bite of the muffin. It seems to cheer him up a bit.

"Why did you agree to lunch with me?" There's a silence hanging over us, and a tension building between us. Can he feel it too?

Christian leans forward. I can smell _his _smell. It's intoxicating. "Because I couldn't bear to not see you again." He never loses eye contact with me, even though I'm blushing. "I have to admit, when you were standing there, silent and quivering in the corner, I thought you would be perfect. Those are exactly the qualities we look for in our girls."

My eyebrows shoot up. I'm only half-surprised, the handbook had detailed the etiquette required. But _why?_

"We're busy men, powerful men. Sometimes we just want to have a glass of bourbon and unwind." He's not even ashamed of it! "Most of the guys are married, and they'd never cheat on their wives, but…" He leans over and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. The touch sends a spark through me and I gasp. "Beautiful women submitting to us helps, but I get the impression that you don't want to submit." Maybe I could learn, for _you_…

"So the lingerie…" I tilt my head to the side.

"You looked magnificent, Anastasia. Can't you see that?" I can't, actually. I've never worn lingerie for anyone, let alone a group of strange men. "Please, Ana, come work for us again. I'll look after you." He implores.

I'll have to think about it. Right now, with Christian and his scent and his puppy dog eyes - I'll do anything. I reach into my bag. "Take this back. I can't accept it. The job, the money… it's just too much!" His face falls as I hand him the black box.

"Ana. I'm not good with my emotions - I just buy things." I love his sheepish grin, and the way he runs his hand through his hair from time to time when he doesn't know what to say.

I touch the box in his hand. "Take it, and I'll come back next week. I want to know more about you."

* * *

"Ana!"

Kate's sitting on the sofa, knees up. I'm so relieved to see her! It's been one hell of a day. We make a stir fry with beef and noodles, and spend the night catching up. I collapse in laughter at her jokes. She's an oasis of calm for my spinning mind.

* * *

Friday rolls around and I can barely concentrate on anything all day. By the time Taylor pulls up I've already had a glass of wine to steady my nerves, but have no problems reaching for the ice bucket again.

Elena is nowhere to be seen tonight; Mrs. Jones takes my trench coat again. She smiles at me, warmly. It almost makes me feel welcome.

The powder room is a hive of activity. Girls rushing around, fluffing and curling their hair, adjusting their stockings and surveying their flawless bodies in the long mirrors. Leila looks unwell. She's thinner than she was last week, with bags under her eyes. I can't help but notice that her hair looks unwashed, not bouncy and full and glossy like it was last week. _Must be the flu_…

There's white roses for Jessica again. I'm curious. I ask her if she has an 'arrangement' with the man who keeps sending them. She gives me a bright laugh. "Of course not! Jason has a family. He just likes to send me roses…" I would question her judgment, and Jason's behaviour, but it brings me comfort to know that she doesn't have the same kind of _agreement_ as Leila and Christian. _And that Christian was telling the truth_. I chastise myself for doubting him.

* * *

"Is something the matter, Leila?" Christian snaps. "My glass is still empty."

Leila whimpers. Her hands are so unsteady she spills wine over the white linen tablecloth. Christian throws his napkin down. "_Jesus_, Leila!"

This isn't a side of him I've seen before. She's cowering. Something isn't right between them. Last week there was the ghost of smile on her lips as Christian pulled at her hair; tonight, she's hurting.

A few minutes later I catch her in the kitchen, eyes puffy and red. The bones of her white lace corset hang from her body. She looks tiny. Broken.

* * *

The evening has gone so well! I've managed not to spill anything or embarrass myself… I've kept completely out of trouble. The men retired to play poker after dinner, and only a few girls were asked to join them. Leila was not one of them. Neither was I, but that's fine with me. I _want _distance from Christian. He makes me do stupid, nervous, childish things. _Like this job_…

I can hear the men start to leave. Deep, drunken laughter booms in the entrance hall. I almost scream when I look up and Christian is standing in front of me.

"Anastasia." He grins his perfect, Cheshire cat grin. "You are resplendent tonight."

"Resplendent?!" I snort. "Kind Sir, thank you." I curtsey. It's obviously a joke, but something in Christian's eye sparkles.

"Would you join me for an aperitif in the study?"

* * *

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I've got a healthy glow about me tonight - rosy cheeks and… something else. My hair is smooth and drawn back in a romantic bun. A few tendrils fall to my collarbone, meeting the black leather straps of my bra.

"That suits you, you know." Christian looks me up and down. I bite my lip and he draws in a deep breath. "Ana, don't bite your lip."

He takes my hand. "Should I sit?" There are plush arm chairs scattered around the room, and two in front of the window take my fancy. Christian's study has the delicious smell of old books, mixed with the citrus polish you can smell everywhere else.

"I'd rather you kneel."

_Kneel? _He walks me over to the fireplace. He settles into a chair and points to the fur rug. It's the same as the one in the powder room. "Kneel." It's a demand.

I swallow. _Should I? _My knees find the carpet and I spread my fingers forward to steady myself, feeling the luxurious softness of the rug. I keep my eyes down. "I don't know if Leila would be comfortable with this, Mr. Grey." I feel deeply sorry for her, but for some reason, I don't want him to know that. I don't want him to think about her anymore. He pours a drink only for himself. I change my tack. "I don't know if we should be alone."

"Oh Anastasia, are you afraid?" He goads. _Me? Afraid of the big bad wolf? _

I've only known this man for a week, and I've seen thoughtful Christian, caring Christian, normal Christian and cold, professional Christian; angry Christian and… playful Christian. Now, sensual Christian and _threatening _Christian. I've seen fifty shades of the man and I somehow want more.

"Leila and I - we've terminated our agreement." Christian emphasizes the syllables. He makes sure that I've heard him clearly. My back is sore from the position, so I arch slightly, letting out a little noise as I stretch. Christian shifts in his chair. _Is it possible that I'm actually having some effect on him?_

"Why?" I look up at him. His face is suspended somewhere between fascination and pain.

"I don't believe in sharing, Anastasia…" He curls his tongue around my name again. I imagine it curling around me - my tongue, my curves… I can't help but stretch again, digging my nails into the rug. "I'm a very powerful man, Ana. When I want something, it's mine. _Exclusively_."

His eyes harden. They're on me; they never left. I peek up at him. "There are so many girls." My mouth hangs open, slightly parted, and so does his for a moment. It's pink and gleaming and looks so soft. I'm completely and utterly under his spell.

If I do this - if I give in, what's to say he won't walk away the moment someone else comes along, just like he did with Leila? Or any of the other girls? _You are replaceable, Miss Steele._

"Come play with me." His voice is so low it's barely more than a murmur. I clench my thighs together. I'm wet… _down there_. I'm ready to play. I can feel his tongue, his fingers…

"_Yes!_" I cry out.

But he's gone. I'm alone in the study. I'm still kneeling, a throbbing between my legs. I ache for more. I ache for Christian Grey.


	4. Interlude

**NB: A little something to tide you over until Sunday, when the new chapter will be up!**

* * *

I remember my first day, too.

Ms. Acton had selected a beautiful, loose-fitting black satin dress. It skimmed over my curves. I knew Mr. Grey would like it because you could just see the shape of my breasts through the fabric.

Oh, this was nothing new. I've worked with women like her before - all the best Doms will dress their Submissives in expensive clothes. I, Leila Williams, have belonged to some of the wealthiest men in the world.

From time to time, I like to try new things. It might be all that I know and sometimes, all that I need, but it's exhausting and as emotionally draining as it can be _satisfying_. After I ended a contract with a particularly difficult Dom, I decided to apply for a job waiting at La Maison Grey. I've done it all. I started as a stripper when I was nineteen, and a distinguished gentlemen invited me to the VIP one night. He paid me $3000. I began escorting, working for myself, before that same gentleman returned and offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.

He whisked me around the world and gave me everything. In return, I submitted to him completely. He _saved _me. He protected me and I loved him. Unfortunately, he didn't love me back. I've been with four Dominants since, but none of them… none are like Christian.

I didn't know much about Christian before I started working there. He is a fiercely private man. After I first met him though, I knew that he was the one. I stayed up all night searching for information on the Internet. There was nothing about his lifestyle, but I suspected it was true. I can tell when a man wants to dominate me. I felt that need more strongly from Christian than anyone else I've ever met.

I learned about his empire, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc., but none of it interested me much. The fact that he was so powerful in the business world only made me desire him more. I knew he would control me just like he controlled everything else in his Universe. _I would be his_.

We played a game of cat and mouse that almost drove me to insanity. For almost two years, I dutifully waited on Mr. Grey and his guests. The money was good, yes, but nothing that I wasn't used to. Mr. Grey had two Submissives during this time; one, Susanna, still works at La Maison. She must be a very strong woman.

I knew that I had to do something drastic. I had to make him see that _I _was the only girl he needed. To do this, I would have to disobey orders. One Friday night, after everything had wound down, Mr. Grey retired to his study. At this time, the girls are supposed to clean up and leave. I slipped into the kitchen instead. I hurriedly poured him a drink and placed it on one of our silver trays. My hands were shaking the whole time, but I managed to stay composed as I carried it upstairs.

I knocked. "Come in, Leila." _How did he know? _

I was terrified but I knew, at that moment, that he wanted it too. Mr. Grey was facing the fire in his favorite armchair. I placed the tray next to him.

I went to the rug and kneeled, my knees slightly spread and my hands placed in front of me. "Good girl." He murmured.

There was a long silence; the crackle of the fire was excruciating. Mr. Grey finished his drink slowly, and what seemed like hours later, he got up to leave. In that moment, I already knew what I would have to do. "Stay." He commanded gently.

_And I did_.

When Mrs. Jones came to fetch me two hours later, I didn't want to go. I began to cry when she lifted me off the floor. "Dear, Mr. Grey wants to see you upstairs." My heart sung.

I stopped working for La Maison immediately. I began to get jealous, thinking that Master might be spending time with all the other girls. I begged him to let me come back to work. I refused to let him play until he agreed. _I still remember how red my skin was that night. _Defying my Master was worth it, because now I could serve him exclusively.

It had been a blissful three months. All these girls, and I was his. Tonight though, Susanna had told me that Master was speaking with the new girl. Alone. My blood burned. I ignored Susanna's advice and made my way towards the powder room. What I saw - _my_ Master, inches away from another girl, with his hand on her hip… it was too much.

The earrings he gave me speak volumes. For the first time in all my life I'm in danger. Danger of a broken heart.

She's nervous and inexperienced and _beautiful_. I have to stop this.


End file.
